The first rays of dawn painted the Lin estate in hues of gold and amber. Servants bustled about with their morning tasks, their chatter blending with the rustling of cherry blossoms in the wind. Yet, for Lin Tianwu, the tranquility of the morning was an illusion.
Seated cross-legged in his courtyard, he tried to steady his breathing, his focus split between cultivating his internal energy and the lingering thoughts of Song Yuren's words the night before.
"Freedom is a luxury few can afford."
The enigmatic noble's voice echoed in his mind, and Tianwu found himself questioning his own desires. Was freedom what he truly sought? Or was it vengeance, power, or perhaps something deeper—a connection long lost?
Before he could delve further into his thoughts, a sharp knock broke his concentration.
"Come in," he called, his voice even.
The door creaked open, revealing Lin Haoran. His younger brother's expression was uncharacteristically subdued, his usual sneer replaced by something akin to wariness.
"Haoran," Tianwu said, rising to his feet. "To what do I owe this unexpected visit?"
Haoran hesitated, his hand tightening around the hilt of the sword at his waist. "Father wants us to spar again. He said it's to demonstrate our progress to Lord Song."
Tianwu raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"
"It's not a request," Haoran added, his tone clipped. "Be in the main training courtyard by noon."
With that, he turned and left, the tension in his shoulders betraying his unease.
---
By the time Tianwu arrived at the training courtyard, the area was already filled with spectators. The entire Lin family had gathered, along with a few high-ranking retainers and, of course, Song Yuren.
The nobleman sat under a shaded pavilion, his expression unreadable as he observed the scene. Tianwu's gaze lingered on him for a moment before shifting to Lin Zhaoyu, who stood beside the pavilion with his arms crossed.
"Tianming," the patriarch said, his voice carrying over the crowd. "It is time for you to show us the fruits of your efforts. Step forward."
Tianwu obeyed, his steps measured as he entered the sparring ring. Across from him, Haoran stood with his sword drawn, his stance firm but lacking the confidence it once carried.
"The rules are simple," Zhaoyu continued. "The first to land a decisive blow wins. Do not hold back."
Tianwu suppressed a smirk. Not holding back? If only they knew.
The signal to begin was given, and Haoran charged immediately, his sword slicing through the air in a calculated arc.
Tianwu sidestepped with ease, his movements fluid and unhurried. Haoran's attacks came faster, each strike more aggressive than the last, but Tianwu deflected them effortlessly, his own blade still sheathed.
The audience murmured, their voices a mix of confusion and surprise.
"Why isn't he attacking?" Lin Xiaoyu whispered to one of her attendants. "Is he mocking Haoran?"
From his seat, Yuren watched intently, his dark eyes never leaving Tianwu.
Haoran, frustrated by his inability to land a single blow, gritted his teeth and lunged, putting all his strength into a downward strike.
Tianwu's hand moved like a blur. In a single, precise motion, he drew his sword and parried the attack, the force sending Haoran stumbling backward.
Before Haoran could recover, Tianwu stepped forward, his blade stopping mere inches from his brother's neck.
The courtyard fell silent.
"Tianming wins," Zhaoyu announced, though his tone was reluctant.
Tianwu sheathed his sword, his expression calm as he turned to face the patriarch. "Is there anything else you require, Father?"
Zhaoyu frowned but shook his head. "You may leave."
As Tianwu exited the courtyard, he felt Yuren's gaze following him.
---
That evening, Tianwu found himself once again in the gardens, the serenity of the cherry blossoms a welcome reprieve from the day's events.
"You handled yourself well today," came a familiar voice.
Tianwu turned to find Yuren approaching, his crimson robes blending seamlessly with the vibrant petals.
"Did I?" Tianwu replied, his tone carefully neutral.
Yuren chuckled, stepping closer. "You're skilled, Tianming. Far more skilled than you let on. Why do you hide it?"
Tianwu hesitated, weighing his response. "Perhaps I see no point in flaunting what others would only resent."
"A wise answer," Yuren said, his eyes gleaming with approval. "But I think there's more to it. You're not just hiding your strength—you're biding your time."
Tianwu's gaze sharpened. "And what makes you think that?"
Yuren smiled faintly. "Because I've met people like you before. Those who move in shadows, waiting for the right moment to step into the light."
For a moment, neither spoke, the air between them charged with unspoken understanding.
"What do you want from me, Yuren?" Tianwu asked finally, his voice low.
Yuren's smile softened, and for the first time, his guard seemed to lower. "Perhaps I simply enjoy your company. Or perhaps I see potential in you—potential that others overlook."
Tianwu's heart stirred, though he didn't fully understand why. Yuren's words, his presence, had a way of unsettling the carefully constructed walls Tianwu had built around himself.
"Be careful, Yuren," Tianwu said, his tone laced with warning. "Those who see too much often find themselves entangled in things they cannot escape."
Yuren's laughter was light, almost musical. "Then perhaps I'll take that risk. After all, life without risk is hardly worth living."
As he walked away, Tianwu watched him go, a strange mix of unease and intrigue swirling within him. Yuren was no ordinary man, of that he was certain. But whether he was an ally or a danger remained to be seen.
For now, Tianwu could only wait and watch, knowing that the ripples Yuren created in his life would soon become waves.
---